


Look After Yourself

by OrangeChickenPillow



Series: The Witcher - Shorts [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Dehydration, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, References to Depression, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeChickenPillow/pseuds/OrangeChickenPillow
Summary: Sometimes things get to be too much for Yennefer, and she can't handle them on her own. When life becomes overwhelming, the sorceress has a habit of forgetting to take care of herself.But now that she's joined up with Geralt and Jaskier, she realizes she doesn't have to face her feelings alone.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Witcher - Shorts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064513
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: mentions/references of depression and depressive moods, along with not eating/drinking due to these moods. Mild swearing. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and take care <3

It’s hard not to become familiar with one’s traveling companions. Spending every moment of every day with a person, one begins to understand them on an intimate level. To notice small things about them; Things like the subtle changes between their happy and sad. Like the way they eat, or the way they walk; what their tired looks like. Noticing these things allows for a better understanding of the person as a whole, and in some cases, allows for friendship to grow. 

For Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer, this all happened without them even realizing it. For them, they were simply traveling from one destination to another. Geralt was seeking work, Jaskier was following him, and Yennefer was exploring her own path -- a path that just so happened to cross with theirs for a time. 

But while they rode on, as the days passed by them and turned into weeks, the three acquaintances began to truly know each other. Geralt and Jaskier had already spent many months in each others’ company, but Yennefer was still a bit of a stranger to them. 

Likewise, Yennefer would have insisted that she knew nothing of the two, claiming that she didn’t even care to in the first place. 

However, even the powerful sorceress, with all her iron walls and locked doors, could not help but notice things about her new companions. And the more she noticed, the more time they spent together, the more she realized that she liked both of them. 

It was the same for Jaskier and Geralt. The Withcer, spellbound by the mage, relished every moment spent with her. And Jaskier, who had started off their journey with a strong dislike of Yennefer, had decided that the mage really did like him, though she didn’t always show it, and therefore decided that he liked her back. 

And so the three companions fell into a content rhythm. 

Yennefer noticed many things -- some that surprised her, others that didn’t.

For one thing, Geralt was painstakingly tidy; Everything had its place, and the Witcher took great care to ensure that things were kept neat. This greatly amused the mage, and it always brought a smirk to her face, watching him organize his pack with a look of deep concentration. 

Jaskier, though she wouldn’t have guessed it from his chatty personality, was extremely contemplative. He would often spend long stretches of silence deep in thought, and whenever Geralt or Yennefer made observations or scholarly comments, the bard always had a profound thought to share.

Eventually, it stopped surprising Yennefer, as it had stopped surprising Geralt long ago, whenever Jaskier took a break from his usual joke-making to say something intelligent and meaningful. 

Geralt and Jaskier noticed things about Yennefer, too. They noticed that she was quicker to laugh when they didn’t look directly at her, as if she felt the need to hide her smile. An action that was grossly unnecessary, as she was strikingly beautiful when she smiled. 

They also noticed that she liked making jokes, and liked it even more when they laughed at her jokes. Her eyes would light up like jewels, and their reactions would inspire her to make more jokes. 

However, they didn’t only notice the positive things about each other. Before long, Geralt and Jaskier noticed that Yennefer would often fall into a depressed mood. It would come on rather suddenly, with the mage becoming more silent than usual. She’d grow distracted, like her essence was wandering off from her body, leaving behind an empty shell.  
During these times, Geralt and Jaskier would keep an eye on her, longing to help in any way they could, but Yennefer was stubbornly independent, and it was nearly impossible to get her to accept anything from them at all. 

So instead, they were simply there for her. And the moods always passed, and then Yennefer would return to herself. 

But it was during the beginning of their travels together that Jaskier and Geralt realized just how consuming these moods could get, and just how careful they had to be. 

They were riding through a forest, hazy and warm, with golden shafts of sunlight peeking through the canopy. The summer heat had begun to pick up, and in the thick of the forest, a mist of humidity clung to their clothes. Flies buzzed around the horses, providing constant irritation for both beast and rider. 

After swatting away what felt like the hundredth fly of the morning, Jaskier let out a groan of frustration. 

“By the gods, I’m going to jump off a cliff if one more fly comes near me.”

Geralt shot him a look, then wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. 

“Jaskier, we’re in a forest,” he muttered. “There are no cliffs.”

The bard clicked his tongue, annoyed. 

“Well, then... “ he groaned. “Ugh, nevermind -- It’s too hot to entertain hypotheticals. Let’s just ride in horrid, uncomfortable silence, shall we?”

Geralt chuckled. 

“You? Silence? You must really be having a hard time of it, eh?”

“The hardest,” Jaskier whined. 

There was a pause as Geralt twisted in the saddle to look over his shoulder. 

Yennefer had fallen behind them a little, which wasn’t uncommon; she always did so when she wanted some time to herself, and they didn’t question it. 

But she had been silent the entirety of the morning, and Geralt had a feeling something was off. 

Glancing around at her, he was alarmed to see that she was swaying a little in the saddle. She looked paler than usual, clammy, and unfocused. 

Turning back around, Geralt looked forward, keeping his face expressionless. 

Taking one look at him, Jaskier could tell something was wrong.

“What?” he asked in a tone full of growing dread. 

Geralt hummed contemplatively. 

“Does… Does something seem…. off, with Yen?” he asked slowly. 

Jaskier’s eyes widened a little, and he hesitantly turned around to get a quick glance at the sorceress.

The younger man, who was much better at these sorts of things than Geralt was, immediately said, “Yes. Something’s definitely off.”

Geralt grunted and his brow creased with worry. 

Jaskier ignored this and instead bombarded the Witcher with questions. 

“Did she eat this morning, do you recall?”

“Uh… I don’t know--”

“Well think, it’s important.”

“Uh… I don’t think so, no.”

Jaskier nodded solemnly. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Can you remember the last time you saw her drink anything?”

The two men rode a few moments in silence, thinking hard. 

“I can’t,” Jaskier finally said, as if to drive home his point. 

“Me neither,” Geralt muttered. 

Jaskier sighed. “We should stop. It’s hot, and if she gets dehydrated…” he trailed off.

Geralt nodded.

They halted the horses at the first relatively clear patch of forest they came across.

“Why are we stopping,” Yennefer inquired, though she didn’t seem to be able to focus on the answer they gave. 

“Just to rest for a moment,” Geralt said, then added, “Jaskier won’t stop complaining about the flies, and I’m tired of hearing him whine.”

Jaskier shot Geralt a look of betrayal. 

“Wha-- I’ll have you know that these damned flies have not left me alone since I opened my weary eyes this morning -- and I haven’t seen a single bloody fly bother you, Geralt, so I don’t want to hear it about my whining.”

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted, squinting his eyes at the bard. 

“Okay,” Yennefer said in a monotone voice as she dismounted, trudging over to a tree and sitting down heavily against the trunk. 

Geralt and Jaskier shot each other a look. 

Yennefer cleared her throat and let out a small, breathy groan. Jaskier’s eyes widened in surprise, and Geralt’s brow knit even closer together. 

With his face set, the Withcer yanked a flask from his saddle and made his way swiftly over to Yennefer. Jaskier watched anxiously, knowing that Geralt wasn’t always the best at being hospitable. 

Without a word, Geralt offered the flask to Yennefer, who looked up at him only briefly before shaking her head. 

“No thanks,” she murmured, sounding distracted. 

“Yen,” he said, voice soft, but edged with worry.

When she didn’t respond, he said it again. 

“Yen, look at me.”

She did, tilting her head up to meet his eyes, her face revealing her confusion, which was quickly shifting into frustration. 

“What,” she snapped, but her face instantly revealed her regret; she was really trying to do better with how she treated her friends. She enjoyed being around Geralt and Jaskier, and they’d been nothing but kind to her -- she wanted to reciprocate. 

“Sorry,” she quickly said, closing her eyes and letting her head fall against the tree at her back. 

“Sorry.”

Geralt sighed. 

“It’s okay. Just… drink this. Please.” 

He gave the flask a little shake, and Yennefer, glancing reluctantly at him, finally accepted. 

When the water passed her lips, she realized how thirsty she really was. Steadily, she drank nearly half the contents of the flask. 

Geralt watched her, his worry gradually draining away. 

Once done, she wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and handed the flask back to Geralt. 

“Thanks,” she muttered, and he offered her a small smile before returning to his saddle. 

“Ready to keep going?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier shot him a look of protest, but Yennefer rose from the ground, looking steadier now, and said, “Sure, let’s go. If I’m going to sit, I’d rather be moving, anyway.”

“Are you sure--” Jaskier started, but was interrupted by Yennefer. 

“Why wouldn’t I be sure, Jaskier?” Her tone was harsh and cold. 

“Right, yeah… Okay,” Jaksier said, his voice changing in the way it always did when he grew guarded: trying to sound as if he didn’t care when, in reality, he felt hurt. 

Yennefer let out a rueful sigh, leaning forward to rest her head on the neck of her mount. 

She thought about how to apologize, but before she could organize her words, the boys had already mounted and begun to pick their way forward. 

“Fuck,” she whispered before climbing onto her horse and following after them, a sinking feeling weighing heavily in her chest.

By the time night fell, they hadn’t made it out of the woods. They set up camp beneath a blanket of thick leafed trees, managing to find a patch where the forest floor wasn’t too rocky or uneven. For a few hours after she’d snapped at him, Jaskier stayed rather quiet. He chatted occasionally to Geralt but, other than sending fleeting glances her way with a face void of expression, the bard didn’t try to speak to her. 

She felt horrible, but was too depressed to say anything. 

So she rode in a painful silence, and the day gave her plenty of time to kick herself until she felt completely drained of energy. 

When they’d found their spot, the three of them began setting up camp. Jaskier started gathering sticks for a fire, which, as deep in the forest as they were, was an easy task. Geralt tended to the horses, making sure they had enough food and water. 

Yennefer’s job was to conjure tents for the three of them to spend the night in. At the start of their journey together, she would have scoffed at the idea of doing such a thing for anyone other than herself. But now, it just seemed like the reasonable thing. Not only reasonable, but it was something Yennefer wanted to do. 

She found that she actually didn’t mind taking care of her friends. 

But this particular day, she felt like she could barely conjure a flower, let alone two luxuriously furnished tents. With a long, weary sigh, Yennefer tried to ignore the heaviness in her head. Raising her hands, she, with much effort, focused her mind just long enough for a single tent to pop into existence, ruffling as it settled on the forest floor. 

She exhaled sharply through her nose. 

“Shit,” she muttered, marching over to where Jaskier was setting up some logs he’d found. 

When he noticed her coming, he gestured to them flamboyantly. 

“Whadda you think? Eh,” he grinned. “I found them a little ways off. They’re a bit soggy, but they’ll make better seats than the ground, won’t they?”

“Mmm,” Yennefer hummed, trying to acknowledge his excitement. 

With barely a glance, she plopped down onto one of the logs, folding forward and burying her head in her hands. 

“Yennefer?” She heard Jaskiers hesitant, worried voice. 

He moved closer, and she could smell his scent of linen and wildflowers as he leaned over her, placing a timid hand on her back. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

Yennefer took a deep breath, then sat up, causing Jaskier to pull his hand away. 

“I’m fine,” she said, reserved. “Just have a headache. 

Jaskier waited a moment, willing her to go on, before nodding solemnly. 

He turned as if to walk away, and Yennefer felt herself relaxing at the idea of being alone. But before he left, he turned back to give her a look that she didn’t completely understand. The younger man looked… disappointed, almost, and very sad. 

“Y’know, Yennefer,” he hesitated, his voice catching slightly. “You can always talk to me… If you want.”

With that, he left her to her solitude.


	2. Chapter 2

‘You can always talk to me,’ that’s what he’d said. 

Yennefer felt hot tears threatening to escape. She clenched her fists until they went away. 

Even still, she couldn’t ignore how much she longed to talk to someone. About her life, about the way she was feeling… about anything. But whenever she played it out in her mind, she always felt threatened by the idea of letting someone in. It made her palms sweaty and her chest ache. 

It terrified her. 

The terror reached every corner of her body, seeping through her like poison. 

But it seemed that not talking wasn’t doing much better either, considering how horrible it made her feel -- the way it caused her to treat her friends. 

And they were her friends. She was beginning to realize that, and it scared her. 

But the thought of them hating her -- the thought of them leaving her -- that scared her even more. 

If she wanted to hang onto two of the people that made her feel truly happy, then it seemed she would have to make some sacrifices. 

So she decided she would try. It might not work -- she might fail miserably and only make things worse for herself, but damn it, she would try. 

That night when they all sat around the fire, she was too preoccupied with her thoughts to eat. 

She was too distracted to notice that Geralt and Jaskier were watching her. 

She didn’t even hear their hushed conversation.

“Let me try and talk to her, Geralt. Oh, don’t look at me like that, you brute -- I’m much better at these things than you are.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re good at them.”

“No, it doesn’t, but… Will you just trust me to try?”

Geralt sighed. 

“Okay,” he finally surrendered. “I’ll be in the tent.” 

“Fantastic -- great, I’ll yell for you if it goes bad and she tries to turn my head into a pumpkin, or something.”

Gerlat snorted. 

“Don’t expect me to move too quickly, bard. You wanted to talk to her alone -- that means you’re on your own.”

“Right, okay. Bye-bye then,” Jaskier ushered the grumbling Witcher away, then turned back to Yennefer, who was still barely picking at her food. 

Gathering up his courage and getting rid of every ounce of self-preservation he had, which didn’t take long, Jaskier crept up and sat down beside her.

She jumped a little, confirming his suspicion that she’d been spacing out. 

“Hey there,” he said softly, tilting his head to look at her. 

“What do you want, bard,” she muttered dryly, but there was enough of the characteristic humor in her voice that Jaskeir smiled. 

“You’re sounding more like yourself,” he said. 

Then, slipping a hand into his coat pocket, he pulled out a small glass bottle. Teasingly, he dangled it in front of her. 

“I know something that’ll help,” he said in a sing-songy voice. 

Yennefer glanced up at the bottle, then at him. 

“And what would that be?” she asked, sounding not at all interested. 

“Here, take a swig,” Jaskier said, handing her the bottle. 

With a shrug, the mage took a long sip, letting out a racking cough when she finished. 

“Where did you get that,” she muttered, her face distorted with disgust. 

“Yeah,” Jaskier responded, his mouth set in a grim line. “It’s pretty foul. But beggars can’t be choosers, and all.”

She handed the bottle back to him and, after taking a swig himself, he returned it to the safety of his pocket. 

They sat in silence for a while, both of their gazes trained at the fire like it was the only thing in the universe. 

“You should eat,” Jaskier suggested gently after a while. 

Yennefer turned to look at him, then down at her plate, as if realizing for the first time that it was there. 

“Oh. Right,” she said, but she didn’t make a move to actually eat anything. 

Jaskier let out a sigh and leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

Then they both started talking at the same time. 

“Jaskier I’m--”

“What’s going on with-- Oh sorry, you first,” the bard said hastily, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Yennefer was scarcely breathing when she answered. 

“I’m sorry about earlier -- No, shut up, let me finish,” she cut in when Jaskier started to protest. 

He fell silent, watching her. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t need you to believe me, but I am. I…” she trailed off, thinking, and Jaskier leaned forward intently. 

She sighed loudly. “Alright, I… I just get so… tense sometimes. And I don’t realize it until I’ve said something stupid and made people upset -- which, normally I wouldn’t give a shit about, but… “

She looked over and found the dopiest grin on Jaskier’s face. 

“Oh my god, would you stop being so… yourself right now, Jaskier,” she muttered, laughing. 

The bard nodded and tried to wipe the smirk off his face, but only managed to turn it into a grimace. 

With one last airy chuckle, Yennefer looked away from him, growing serious once again. 

“I can be such a bitch sometimes,” she said eventually, her voice full of remorse. 

“Oh, stop it,” he protested. “Sure, you can get a little moody. Well, a lot moody,” he tilted his head in thought, then shot her a charismatic smile. 

“But we all can. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Yennefer sighed, closing her eyes tightly.

“And anyhow,” he continued. “I forgave you for this morning like, ages ago,” he said, waving his hand. 

Yennefer looked at her lap. 

“You’re sweet, Jaskier,” she said in a low voice. “Sometimes I wonder how it hasn’t gotten you into trouble.”

“Oh ho ho, believe me, it has,” Jaskier muttered passionately, then added, “Now, will you please eat your dinner.”

Yennefer glanced at the food resting on her lap, then began to slowly spoon some into her mouth. 

While she ate, Jaskier looked out into the forest. 

“You know,” he started, his voice contemplative. “When I first started traveling with Geralt, he was just like you. Did a horrible job of taking care of himself. I had to remind him to eat, a lot of the time… Remind him to drink, too... I guess he finally got tired of me nagging him, because he started to pay more attention on his own. Now I don’t even have to say anything.”

He paused, his brow creasing slightly. 

“Sometimes I think people like you and him, you forget that your own comfort matters -- that your happiness matters. It’s all about the next job or the next problem, but never about yourselves. If I’ve managed anything by the end of my life, it’ll be to teach Geralt something about selfishness,” Jaskier chuckled softly. 

Yennefer looked at him carefully, then nodded. 

He returned her gaze with an intense one. 

“Just, promise me that you’ll look after yourself, Yen.”

She let her eyes fall, not meeting his eyes. She wasn’t sure she could do what he was asking. She’d never really even thought about herself that way -- as someone who mattered. 

As if reading her thoughts, Jaskier added, “I’ll be here, bothering the hell out of you until you can do it on your own.”

She smiled, and her whole face lit up with both happiness and sadness. 

“Well, you’d be the one to do it,” she said in a mild, teasing manner. “You are annoying as hell.”

They grinned at each other, and Jaskier leaned towards her, giving her shoulder a gentle nudge, and fell into a reflective silence. 

Finally, with a sigh, Jaskier stood. 

“I better go get Geralt before he starts sulking. He hates to be left out,” Jaskier said, his voice full of fond teasing. 

“Yeah, okay,” she responded as Jaskier headed towards the tent at a leisurely pace. 

“Jaskier?” Yennefer called after him.

The bard turned around to look at her with an inquisitive tilt of his head. 

“Thank you,” she said, emphasising each word so he knew that she truly meant it. 

Jaskier’s eyes softened, the skin around them wrinkling with emotion. 

“You’re so welcome,” he replied.


End file.
